Selfish
by AZn PriDE 2132
Summary: If she was gonna have a mental breakdown, it would be because she wanted one, and not because she failed doing whatever the hell Riley did. If she was gonna be what everybody thought she was, she was gonna go all the way, and even if Josh would try to rescue her, he would know that he was thirty percent of the problem.
1. Selfish

**Please rate and review. Property of Disney.**

She started smoking a little over six months ago. It took the edge off, and people expected it of her. Heck, she just needed a little bit of time to find herself, away from Riley. Away from a new life that had ingratiated itself into her so that she was lost.

And if she found herself in a pack of Camel Crush's so be it. Why? Because Marlboro Reds hurt too much, and a pack of Newport's tasted like ass.

Anyways, she could be doing so much worse. That weird guy that slept outside of 83rd Street station in that weed tent, who she bought ganga, cigarettes and (occasionally) shrooms from, offered her samples of acid. She declined.

This was her exploring period. She was sixteen, and in the prime of her life. She moved away on from cheesy paintings about doors with secret meanings, and diner scenes. She was now painting sounds and music and visions.

And psychedelics and stimulants were needed to see everything deeper. Jimmy Page was coked up when he did Led Zeppelin II, Carlos Santana was dropping acid before Woodstock, and Maya Hart was painting how many colors are in the shade blue on shrooms.

She stopped caring. She stopped hanging out with Riley, Lucas, Farkle and Smackle. Why should she? _Lifelong friends only last a life you can sustain._ Well, she couldn't sustain that life.

Why was she hanging around a bunch of entitled Greenwich-sonians, when everybody knew she was Central Harlem trash.

She still hung out with Riley, nonetheless. But Riley grew a sneer whenever she looked at her do things she had to do. _Well fuck her._ She had to do them to stay normal. The normal she experienced two years ago was just plain painful and awkward, and she was enough painful and awkward.

She didn't give a shit. If she had lose herself to finally revert into "herself"; a "good badass", then she may as well have been a badass.

Girls like her smoke and drank, and went to frees's thrown by kids who went to Lab. Girls like her didn't give half a crap about other girls who cried at a drop of a hat, because some other girl was bullying her. _Just end it._

She learned how to breathe in smoke, and exhale. She learned how not to give half a crap about life. She learned what happened when you smoke pot on an empty stomach, and how to properly consume shrooms.

She stopped thinking about stupid shit. _Daddy issues. Does he like me? Does he think about me? Why does Mommy not care about me. Why is Mommy so obsessed with an acting career that ain't going to shit?_

Just fuck everything. Because Bree Tillerson was throwing a party at her house in Williamsburg, and Maya needed something cute to wear, and a something to make the world a little less colorful and a little more vibrant, if you know what she meant.

She put on a dark smoky eye, and a bright red lipstick. She'd brushed her hair to the middle of her back, and had curled it. She put on a pretty skanky body-con dress from Demolition (with a partially covered slit that went down from her boob to the bottom of the dress), and thigh-high boots from Zara. She looked like a hooker.

It was a Saturday night. She could remember a time when Saturday night meant a sleepover at Riley's, with a roast for dinner with tiny potatoes and onions. It meant Scrabble, and it meant Riley going to be a midnight after two hot cocoas for dessert, and Maya going to bed at three in the morning, terrified Riley and her would clash. What a loser. They both were.

They were commended for not giving into the peer pressure. Well, that entire time she was under pressure. _To escape the cycle of depravity and make something of herself._ Well she couldn't do that. It was too damn hard, and all she wanted to do was retreat into herself, knowing that if she broke down into tears it wasn't because the Matthews thought she was trash.

Because she was trash, but now it was because she just was, not because she failed at being a better person.

She still thought about Josh. Holy fuck, she was still a loser. When she thought about jumping on his back just to have an excuse to touch him and be closer to him... What a pathetic, little girl.

Speaking of being touched... People were fucking disgusting on the train. She didn't even look that old. So why was that forty year old perv think that he could sneak his hand up her slit?

She was taking a L, on the L. The irony wasn't lost to her. And she couldn't even just walk away. She was in a pair of knock-off Jimmy Choos, and if she took a step on the wobbly train, she'd break something.

"Look, bozo. Don't touch." Her voice was firm and insistent, but all he did was grope her some more. And pretty soon, his hand reached up and started honking on her left boob, before she just lost it. She screamed bloody murder on the crowded train, and some big burly guy started hitting the pudgy old prick, and she was thanking the stranger.

And then suddenly, somebody wrapped her up in a large overcoat and she was shoved into E 105 St Station.

She was wrapped around a familiar scent of Allspice, and the voice that filled her dreams when she was twelve entered her ears. Josh. And he was fucking pissed. "What the hell Maya?"

"What gives, Josh? The problem was done with and over. I'm going to a free."

"What do you mean "what gives"? You could've been raped! Doesn't that reasonat at all with you? And why are you dressed like that, huh?" She was ignoring him at that point, staring blankly at his face, a little pissed off at parental lessons from an eighteen year old.

 _*The Brooklyn bound L train is two minutes away*_

She shook her head. Her head was hurting and she was on edge. She could finish a cigarette in two minutes easy. "I'm getting on the next train, Josh. Bree's not gonna wait."

And she pulled out a loosie from her purse, and lit it up with a Zippo lighter. And before she could even take a puff, Josh grabbed both of her hands and put them behind her back. He took both the cigarette and lighter, tossing it onto the tracks.

"Stop. Just stop everything. I know for a fact that Corey would never let you in his house if you look the way you do, and if you effing smell like smoke. What happened?"

 _*The Brooklyn bound L train is approaching the station*_

He wouldn't let her go. He just grabbed her wrists and just wouldn't let her on the train. The next train was gonna arrive in seventeen minutes.

She was pathetic. She couldn't even kick his shin, or else she'd get off balance and fall on her ass.

He looked stoic, and he looked calm. His face lost all of its anger when he threw away her lighter, and all he expressed was annoyance. "You know what's so sad?" His voice was lilting and his eyes were narrowed.

"What, Josh? Huh?"

"We were gonna go to the same party." She shrugged. "Whatever."

"Why are you doing this to yourself, huh? Why don't you go to Riley and hang out with her? Why do you need to smoke and dress like that?" He looked at her in the eyes, his eyes milky. "Is it because of me?"

She never wanted to punch anybody more than she did Josh.

What the hell was wrong with him? Did everything have to be about him? What a fucking prick. Was she spiraling out of control because all she could think about in her hum-drum life was how much Joshua Matthews didn't love her. She was losing her mind because all she could think about was how many days until she was finally able to love him, and how many girls he would have until they could be an item. No.

She looked at the ground for a solid ten seconds, and when she looked back up at him she spoke in soft measured tones. "Josh. I'm goddamn sixteen. I don't need to think about you every single day, believe it or not. Look, if you think that your such a prize, just play the long game with yourself. Because all I wanna do right now is go into Brooklyn and get hammered."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry Maya. That was wrong."

"Yeah, no shit. But it doesn't matter right, big man, huh?" She was still pissed off about her lighter, and the trains she'd missed. "What? You want a teenage girl to idolize you? To love you, and you just keep her in your back pocket to maybe think about her? She's your safety choice."

He looked stunned. Maybe it was what she'd said, maybe it was how old she looked, but he was speechless. "I never thought of you that way..."

She shook her head. She looked at her phone. "You know what? I'll just take an Uber. Just stew in your own self-aggrandizement."

 **To be continued...**


	2. Regret

**Please review! Also, there will be other chapters!**

She could still remember the first time she got even a _little_ tipsy.

Her mom always lectured her about "making the most of her life" and not drinking, and Maya had always been really good at listening to that. When Haley Paul offered her some Blue Moon she declined, and she did so with every single drink passed her way until seventh grade.

She was twelve and she was spending a weekend over at Riley's. And Josh was babysitting them, and he was a little off his rocker. He opened Corey's liquor cabinet, and had a few sips of the raspberry schnapps.

It was two in the morning, Riley in bed, passed out. Josh was downstairs, and she was still up, thinking about making a move. Thinking about screaming out her love for him, with only him and her to think about the consequences.

And so, in her long Hansen t-shirt (she got it at Demolition to be "retro"), she strolled down into the living room to find Josh drunk outta his mind. He was playing air guitar with his headphones in, probably playing Anthrax or the White Stripes, in a pink-soaked white tee. He smelled sickeningly sweet, and he looked drenched.

"Josh?"

He whipped his head back up from his air guitar and smiled in her direction. "What's up gorgeous?"

Despite being repulsed by the odor, she couldn't help but smile when Josh called her that. So she did. "Are you drinking?" She asked meekly, not wanting to piss him off.

"A little. Not a lot."

She knew that he was lying, but didn't wanna rock the boat with a happy, flirty Josh with only the two of them awake in and silent house. So she just stood there.

And so did he. They both just looked at each other, Maya, with blank adoration and Josh with drunken complacency.

"Let do something, Maya huh? This is getting a little weird."

She nodded her head furiously. He grabbed the ornate and ugly of bottle of liquor and filled a glass, a quarter full. "Have some."

She didn't want to disappoint him and took it upon herself to down the entire glass in one go. And she did it twice.

"Woah, Maya, we really need you over back in Philly." She smiled brightly, and thought the night was going over splendidly.

"You know what Gorgeous?" She looked up at him, with her big blue eyes, practically asking why in them. "If you were just a little older..." He sighed. "Your smart, your beautiful and you can hold your liquor..." He laughed.

And she was on cloud nine. She smiled the biggest smile she could've possibly mustered and settled into the couch. Three seconds later though, she thought that she met her creator as she was emptying the contents of her body into the toilet, Josh holding back her hair.

The fire! The pain. Ripping through her soul and her stomach, killing her. She could taste the artificial raspberry, the syrup and saccharine all through her throat. The warmth she thought comfortable in he really stomach becoming the death of her, opening the fires of Hell.

The next morning Josh just ignored her. _Lightweight. Why'd you take more than you could handle, and why'd you ruin a night meant only for him. Tsk, tsk, tsk._

* * *

She arrived when the party was in full swing. Red solo cups all around, The Who blasting through the Tillerson's crappy home audio system, and at least four couples hooking up around her.

She took Donnie Mayfield's oil pen and proceeded to get high before all of the festivities. Life was looking up.

 _Twenty minutes later..._

She was deep into her introspective high when her senses drew her to the cheap and disgusting Budweiser on the counter. As it was floating from room to room (she was really high), she made her way to the den, where she most definitely saw Josh making out with Amy Donatelli. And the funny thing was, she didn't feel a thing.

She remembered years ago, when she'd stalked Josh all the way ove to NYU just to prevent him from getting some, because she felt that she had a right to him.

When she wanted to die when he tried asking that pretty brunette on that train, and how she wanted to die when he was devastated when she'd turned him down.

It was gone. Josh was just a four letter word. Why, he would expect her to remember him. Why? Because she was in love with him, but that was over.

It didn't happen because of what had happened on the train, instead it was everything that'd evolved to lead up to the incident on the train. She wouldn't have went to the free, had she not chiefed keef with Bree every single day from January to June. She wouldn't have even known Bree if she was still painting with her shitty acrylics, since they did met in an NYU art class for Intro to Oils.

Damn. And in the months it took to develop Maya into a person, Josh was nowhere. Josh wasn't a part of her life and Josh wasn't a part of her.

She felt so little, that as she walked back into the living room, all she felt was a giant weight lifted off of her shoulders, and all she did was fall into the arms of Aaron Folger, and try to lose whatever she had left in herself into a complete and total stranger.

Because that's all she was left now. A complete and total stranger to whatever's life she'd led previously.

xXXXXXx

Josh took the L the rest of the way to Bree's party. How Maya gotten into a college party was still beyond him, yet that wasn't what he wanted to think about going into Brooklyn.

He wanted to think about how much fun he was gonna have, how many people he was gonna kick it with, what things to do. He was gonna get boozed up and smoke some. He was gonna be completely reckless, and do things without judgement.

Instead, he was forced to think about Maya Hart, and how she was sixteen and going harder than he was. And how that was wrong.

He was stuck feeling guilty when he claimed that all that Maya was feeling was lingering infatuation. What a dummy. How stupid did he have to be?

To be honest, it was a slap to the face to see her smoking. It could kill her! How could she even think about doing something like that? Maya was going too far. She needed to be reeled back in. _Remember to tell Corey._

She needed a support group for at-risk youths. Yeah. That'd help her. And take her back to Riley and make everything peachy-keen with Peaches.

As he entered the party house, the air was thick with marijuana smoke and the floors were sticky with beer and slippery with beer. The bathrooms and coat closets were locked with people hotboxing them with their buds, and everything was great.

As the minutes went on, and everything went a little more hazy, with his senses being dulled from being in such an environment, Josh forgot about things. Instead he started thinking about why he'd come to the party in the first place.

The redhead by the T.V. was very cute, and before long, they were making out and he forgot about Maya.

Not for good, never for good, but if he all the times he'd occasionally thought about her were added up, it wouldn't equal half the amount that she thought of him every single day, every single year since she's known him.

He'd always felt guilty since he asked her if they'd wanted to play the long game. He knew that she would say yes, it just felt like that he was stringing her along. He would always have girlfriends, and dates that never knew that such an agreement existed, and he would nevertheless think about it until it became useful as a breakup device.

He thought about how great that they did be when he wanted to go break up with XYZ, and that's just unfair to everybody.

She was always second pick. What a dick.

 **Property of Disney**


	3. No Inhibitions

**Please rate and review! More chapters to come!**

Life changed a lot. School was different. She rarely ever hung out with Riley, Lucas, Farkle or Smackle. Whenever she walked the halls, Lucas would sneer at her.

Her classes still contained that group of kids, how couldn't they when they all had Mr. Matthews, and Mr. Matthews did schedules. But things had gotten icy. They all didn't approve of what she had done, and made that obvious.

At first, a fifteen minute phone conversation with Riley in the morning always started her day, and ended it too. Those stopped about three weeks in. At lunch, Farkle always made it a point to give her a long conversation about the dangers of smoking, and the dangers of underage drinking. Those stopped after Farkle had gotten an TA position with the AP Physics teacher. Smackle was Smackle, and to be honest, Maya was always really schmacked when she was listening to her, so she could hardly remember those lessons.

At least one of those friends never changed and didn't try. Lucas was a no-nonsense douchebag when he'd found out about her "sordid habits". He just plain ignored her, or told her that he found her to be detestable person for putting her friends through all of what she was doing and forcing them to fix her. Whenever she came near him, Lucas brushed her away like a fly.

Pretty soon, it just became exhausting as she tried to kick the habits. She felt guilty, she tried to fix herself to no avail. And they seemed so perfect, and so well adjusted. Even _Riley_ was getting pissed off at her. She would snap and yell at Maya as time went on, and refused to listen to anything. She told Maya that she was ruining her life, and she may as well just leave the group if she would rather choose drugs.

She didn't choose drugs over her friends, she just chose to leave her friends who didn't accept her and let her be accepted. She chose to leave friends who were unforgiving, pigheaded and stubborn, and really honestly self-righteous. And she hated that.

She always had to be the friend who needed guidance, because she had issues. Well now, when those issues reflected badly on the friends who tried to help her, they became the type of people she couldn't handle.

So she left. And she took everything bad with her. She would smoke, she would drink, she would do drugs, all for her and she was never gonna let anybody else hate her for it.

Sometimes, she and Riley would kick it, but those times were few and far between, done only so neither of them could say that they've truly fallen out of touch.

They would always be prompted by Riley, they would always be at Topanga's and they would always be with either Farkle or Smackle. Lucas never joined. The conversations were stilted, and Maya was always clapped for the unhappy encounters. Riley and Farkle/Smackle would always talk, and Maya would always try to deliver punchy jokes that always fell flat.

School changed. Riley, Lucas and the rest of them hung out the way Maya used to with them. As she became a voyeur, on the outside looking in, she found that she couldn't relate to them.

And as the smoke entered her lungs and calmed her nerves, all she could say was "Good riddance."

She stopped stressing out about disappointing them, trying to be them. She was herself, and she was the worst possible version of "what could be" but she did it. She had an individuality and that was worth the life she carefully crafted her entire life. She won her sanity, and for that, she would be eternally grateful to the things killing her.

* * *

He was making out with that cute redhead, and pretty soon they were up against Bree's little brother's PS4 getting hot and heavy.

She was pretty, and she was really flirtatious, and they were liable to do anything. And so they were about to. Her legs went around his hips, and he was carrying her around holding her ass in the air for all to see. They were making out, her lipstick schmering on his face, his mouth on hers, his nose on his cheek, smelling the vanilla perfume emanating from her neck.

They went like this from room to room of the three story townhouse, looking for an empty bedroom, closet, bathroom, _anything_. And they'd walked in on couples left and right in search of a room, with no luck. And when they went into the kitchen, and found the pantry, they felt a little hopeful.

No. Because in between two metal storage shelves holding countless ranch dressing bottles, Annie's macaroni and pasta, were two people getting it on, half naked. The guy was neglible, forgettable at best, if it wasn't for girl he was with. He was with Maya Hart, and Josh felt his heart explode.

They didn't look at the people towering above them, obviously meaning such an occurrence had already happened, and they were just going through the motions. Josh just stood there.

When the girl started nudging him to get them out, Josh gently put her down. "I don't think that we can do anything today, I'm sorry." She was a little puzzled, but didn't even question him. She just walked out of the pantry, leaving Josh to stew in his own confusion and anger.

Josh knelt down and grabbed Officer Buttnaked by the shoulder and pushed him up against the food piles. "What the hell are you doing fucking a sixteen year old girl?!"

The boy's cloudy eyes cleared up almost immediately, and his mouth dropped open wide. And then all anybody could hear in the tiny pantry was Maya. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING JOSH?!"

xxXXXXXxx

Aaron was pretty fucking terrible at sex, but Maya didn't mind. She was forgetting about her old self, and being baptized into her new identity. She was finally okay. She was at peace with everything and she was finally not stressed about anything. She could accept a shorter lifespan, pretty awful sex if only she could be fine with how she was.

It'd been around seven minutes, and in that time, two couples had tried to come into the pantry to try to fuck. She could get it, she'd been in similar circumstances, whatever.

And the third time it'd happened, it was normal. She just kept her eyes closed, trying to feel whatever the hell Aaron was shoving in between her legs.

But the third time also lingered, awkwardly. And then suddenly, Aaron was lifted from above her, and snatched away. Her eyes popped open and they saw Josh's unkempt form pushing Aaron up against the foodstuffs. She heard him scream something about her age, and her having sex and she grew livid.

Mere minutes ago, she saw him hooking up with Amy Donatelli. The nerve of the absolute fucking tool. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING JOSH?!"

When Josh let go of Aaron for a second in surprise, the pussy decided to run away in his boxer briefs, leaving her to fend for herself after fucking her. The goddamn nerve. But she wasn't a tenth as angry at Aaron as she was at Josh.

Josh looked at her for a second before letting a scowl form on his face. "I'm gonna be outside this door. You can get dressed, and we can talk." And he just stepped out, leaving her to get dressed like a big girl.

And she never felt so angry in her life. She got dressed quickly opened the door, expecting to simply leave without even talking to Josh. Wrong.

As soon as she opened the door, Josh came back into the pantry and shut the door, and stood in front of it. "What the fuck Maya? You're sixteen! Are you stupid, or something?"

"Oh shut up! What moral authority do you have to give me this speech, huh?" He closed his mouth and looked at her, listening to her, a little ashamed of himself. "You lost your virginity at fifteen, Josh! Fifteen! The only reason you found me is because you walked in on me while you were gonna do the EXACT SAME THING!"

xxXXXXXxx

The way she looked made him want to go kill himself. Her hair was all tangled and had dust bunnies in them, and her mascara was smudged. He never thought that _she_ would be having sex. Maybe it was because she was his neice's best friend, or because of that stupid long game, he just never thought that she would be the type to do that sort of thing.

At least not with anybody else. He could, she just wouldn't. She was devoted to him, followed him around.

She was always so gorgeous and amazing, but she would always turn down other people in favor of him. Because she loved him and was saving herself for him. Right?

No. Wrong. He wasn't gonna stay faithful his college years, and he shouldn't have expected that of her.

"Maya, it's just that... you're really young and impressionable and sex is a big deal."

"I know that. That's why you hooked up with Amy after knowing her for so long, right?" His cheeks turned red. He was sounding like a total hypocrite, and in a way, he was.

He couldn't keep on being made out to be a idiot. "Look, It's different. We're both of age, and know the consequences." His voice got lower, "We both know that you don't wanna slut around at this point. Think about the long game, the end goal. It's me right? So just don't, and maybe we'll make it." As soon as he said it he regretted it. The entire stupid sentence.

Her eyes were wide open and she looked pissed. He called her a slut and said that all she should work towards was him. "Oh my God, Maya, I'm so sorry, I did not mean it's that way..."

As he took three steps to comfort her stricken face, she ran around him and ran out of the house.

He didn't follow. Some things needed time to cool down, especially words that were _that hurtful_.

 **Property of Disney.**


	4. Double Standards

**Please rate and review!**

He could hardly remember the long game after he brought it up. Sure, there was that short period of regret when Maya started acting strangely around him, and when he realized that he was an 18 year old who just promised himself to a high school freshman.

But two days after he went back to NYU, after four days back from Mount Sun Lodge, he found himself fucking Gerrie Larson, and beginning a month long relationship with her. She had short, curly black hair and freckles splaying across the bridge of her nose.

It was sweet. They would hang out, go to movies, have sex etc. But soon after, she started getting too clingy. And that reminded him of another girl. Maya. Mind you, that this was only one month in.

Josh would compare the two of them, and he told himself that clinginess was always a horribly big no-no.

And around the same time, a cute girl from Tisch was the checkout girl at his local Duane Read, and put her number on his receipt.

He reminded himself of the long game that he played with Maya, and justify why he really couldn't let the thing with Gerrie go too far. Because it would be unfair to Maya, with him paying zero heed to the fact that a mere six days after _he_ decided to ask _her_ to play the long game, he fucked the girlfriend that he blamed _Maya_ for splitting them up.

But he did it nonetheless. He told Gerrie the entire story (minus the long game portion) and explained how heartbroken Maya was when she found out that Josh was dating Gerrie, yada, yada. She took it, accepted the story and didn't make a big deal out of it.

A week later, he and the girl from Tisch got together. Her name was Liza.

They were together for two months, until it was Christmas with the Matthews (Maya and her mother were _supposed_ to be visiting her grandmother), and Josh thought it was a good time to introduce her to the family.

Surprise, surprise, Maya had to come home for some mysterious reason, and saw him and Liza. _Ace._

She just looked at Josh with the blankest expression and walked up to the bay window. He was impressed. He thought she was mature. She wasn't trying, she handled Josh having a girlfriend as a force of nature, and he was proud of her.

In retrospect, it was an ominous warning. It was the beginning of the end, because the normal Maya would've cried and yelled and Josh would've been forced to reinforce her self-esteem. He wasn't compelled to do so. Maya Hart had changed.

A little while later when the going got too tough with Liza, he told her that him and Maya were gonna make a go at it. _Lies._ When he would hook up with girls, he would tell girls about "his neice's best friend who was desperately in love with him, and how he couldn't commit or else she would destabilize", when he left in the morning or vice versa. _Lies._

He took advantage of her. Of her feelings and made them worth nothing to him, until they became convenient. _At least she doesn't know..._

* * *

She wouldn't have ran in the boots she wore, but she honestly had to from the pantry. Away from the smells of saliva, sweat, cheap perfume from Victoria's Secret. Away from Josh who'd just humiliated her.

Her lungs were broken. She couldn't breathe and sucking in air set her lungs on fire. She didn't have asthma, she just needed something to coat her throat and get rid of her high that was making everything worse.

She needed a cigarette. Any cigarette.

And on the coffee table, lain a pack of Pall Malls, the most disgusting brand she'd ever touched, but the way she reached for it, the pack turn almost venerable.

She needed a light, any light. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't handle the cigarette. She found a matchbook in someone's pants pockets. _So close._ She struck the match, and it lit the cigarette.

 _Inhale, then exhale. In and out._ She was calming down, she became herself again and that's what happened to her tonight.

For a second, just a moment she became that terrified fourteen year old on that stupid train, or that stupid fifteen year old that saw Josh and his girlfriend during _Christmastime,_ when Josh reprimanded her, when Josh looked at her naked and with disdain. She was scared, and confused and she's felt awful about herself.

She heard Joshua Matthews make a shitton of empty promises, early on. And she took them. But not _her_. Not who she was anymore, unless she was high and vulnerable. Then she realized that that was how she was always gonna be.

She was humiliated. He thought she was slutting it around. Sure, she wasn't exactly the purest girl in the city, but she just wanted to enjoy life! Was that so awful, so bad? She always used protection, a condom was always in use and she took it upon herself to use birth control. She never, ever was unsafe. She was as clean as a whistle.

Why make her feel like a fucking ho just for enjoying sex? She was sixteen, and Joshua Matthews could still make her feel terrible all the while holding the moral ground. Because she really shouldn't have sex. She shouldn't smoke and she shouldn't experiment. Or at least that's what every single health class in the United States of America is taught.

Crawling onto Bree's sticky, sweat-covered plastic covered couch, Maya pushed off all other occupants and proceeded to smoke an entire pack in an hour, coming out of it as the persona she'd sacrificed her health and body and "friendships" for. The body she was comfortable in.

* * *

Josh left the house pretty soon after the pantry incident.

He thought that he was drunk when he decided to hook up with Amy. He was wrong. So wrong. He didn't even know what the word "drunk" even meant. He sobered up almost instantly when he saw the pasty white ass of that punk move over Maya.

He was stupid, so stupid. He knew deep down that he cared about Maya, so why was it that he found it so easy to hurt her? To justify hurting her. It used to be so simple.

Why did he find it okay to call her a slut? To tell her that if she continued sleeping around he would leave her. Why was he implying that the gift of his (maybe) love was all she needed to kick her habits?

That was a honestly horrible moment. He was never more ashamed of was bad at life too. Had he no shame?

When Maya brought up Amy all he could think about was the fact that Shakespeare quote " _few love to hear the sins they love to act_ ". Doubly true for himself. At least she never did it lurking in the shadows. At least she was honest. At least she never tried to give moral pointers on things that she herself had failed in. Damn.

She was realistic and mature. More mature than he'd ever be. She knew that some things were possible and some impossible, and she never expect more than she knew people were willing to give. Unlike other people, namely himself.

And as the L pulled into Fulton Street, all he could think about was how to make it up to her. And he couldn't think of jack shit because some things were simply unforgivable.

 _"When people talk, they lay lines on each other, do a lot of role playing, sidestep, shilly-shally and engage in all manner of vagueness and innuendo. We do this and expect others to do it, yet at the same time we profess to long for the plain truth, for people to say what they mean, simple as that. Such hypocrisy is a human universal." -Stephen Parker_

 **Property of Disney**


	5. Intervention

**Firstly I would like to say that I write for the sake of writing. If I decide to give Josh and Maya a difficult and unlikable story, it is because I wish to do so. I try to make them as human as possible. Also, this is not meant to be portrayed as a "Romance" story. Literally, from Day 1 my selected genres were "Drama" and "Hurt/Comfort".**

 **I try to make my writing palatable and understable. At the end of this story, I just wish to give closure to what I felt were underdeveloped characters in the television show. If you dislike my spin, please tell me what I *should* do.**

Art meant something to her. In a world where everybody judged her, and critiqued her; art was something she could pour her heart and soul into and have people compliment her on. They would be inadvertently complimenting her as a person, she rationalized it. And the more she added, the more they enjoyed it.

She could be blatant, or subtle. She could use the color wheel, or completely ignore it, claiming artistic license. She could paint white on a canvas. She could paint a naked woman being mauled by a pack of rabid dogs. There were absolutely no rules in art, and the more and more she moved out of the set comfort zone, she was complimented.

" _How raw, how inspiring!"'s and "How innovative"'s_ sounded off often. She could do anything, reveal herself for the chain-smoking skank that she was answered actually create a life out of it.

She stopped with the "daddy issues" and the "single mom problems". She stopped painting those. Because in reality they were cheesy, superficial and painfully obvious. She was looking for nuances and interpretive meaning in her art. Not an extended session with the school therapist.

As she looked back on her middle school years, when people called her amazing and introspective, those were simply lies. How could anything be introspective when its laid out on a silver platter, begging for attention?

When she was simply painting her mother in a twenty-four hour diner, with herself lost elsewhere. How does that translate as anything other than a cry for help?

She could still remember when she'd spoken to the art teacher, who obviously never had a talented student ever, and she'd been praised and venerated for her talents and ability. She reached for the satisfaction and the feeling of being wanted and _worth something._ But she got greedy. She wanted more attention than just her friends, family and faculty. She wanted the world.

So she reached out to Shawn, to ask if his connections with the art world could just critique her work. She honestly thought that they would be in love with her work as much as she'd been. In love with her cheesy paintings crafted with tempera and acrylic paint.

Shawn had agreed. And in the coming days, email after email arrived to her. And crushed her soul.

 _Immature. Self-centered. Gut-wrenching. Forced. Bad mediums._ They all said the same thing. Art was supposed to evoke emotion, however if you paint something so obviously begging for attention, the only emotion evoked, if evoked, would be guilt. And only the worst artists force guilt from a viewer.

She was devastated. She knew what Hitler must've felt like. But the last complaint was the easiest to rectify. And so she did, as she had nothing left to do.

She tossed out the Blick Acyrlic Art Beginner set she began to use when she decided that she wanted to be a professional artist. She tossed out the Crayola Tempera Art she continued to use because of its bright colors. She kept all of her money, borrowed some of other people's and sold some of her clothes to Demolition.

She bought oils. Special oils that used walnut oil as the base instead of linseed oil. They cost $15 for every 40 mL, and she bought around twenty. Those paints were her new livelihood and future, and she was gonna make sure that she would use them correctly. She squeezed paint out slowly, and used the barest essentials. She was a madwoman.

Drugs. She started painting on drugs, because that's what Warhol did and Diego Riviera did and what everybody else did. She painted what was unseen. She tapped into her inner psyche and she didn't let go. Shrooms, pot, alcohol and angel dust made her art special.

Art critics, and professionals started showering her with compliments, but she didn't let it make her feel more important or better. Because she knew that at heart she was horrible painter, but the drugs were what made her better. But Maya on and off drugs still needed praise, so stroke by stroke she kept on.

* * *

Should he or should he not tell Corey? Tell him that his daughter's best friend was partying hard and doing all kinds of shit people warn others about?

On one hand, they were serious issues that needed to be rectified immediately, or else Maya would become the what not to do child for the "Just Say No" PSAs.

Maya was being self destructive. The person that she was currently hated him, and if she would just get a little help, maybe she would forgive him and turn a blind eye to all the fucked up shit he'd put her through.

Yeah. Josh didn't need to beg for forgiveness and repentance. Him offering Maya a helping hand through Corey would be well enough. He would save her life, and she would be so grateful that she would never stray from the set guidelines that Josh would expect from her.

She would get drug counseling and come out of it the girl that practically lived at Riley's house. He would be like Pygmalion and recreate a woman from a blank slate. He would recreate a Maya that would hop on his back. A Maya that would follow him around. A Maya that he knew cared about her.

Yeah.

And all that nonsense about not telling Corey? Fuck that. It was his duty as an adult to report such unhealthy behavior. The only reason he contemplated not doing so was because he was a teenager once too.

He went to a couple of frees and smoked a little pot in high school as well. He could sympathize with her. But just because he could sympathize doesn't mean that he would condone it coming from _Maya._ Also, the amount of help she would actually get was debatable. But that doesn't matter. Anything to bring him back the Maya he remembered and that thought the long game was a fantastic idea.

Because the Maya that she became hated his guts. And he didn't like that.

xXXXXXx

When she got up, she felt like a new woman. The woman she'd repressed and hid from herself.

And as she walked out Bree's house, and the wind breezed through her hair, she became new.

She could forget Josh, forget the shitty way that he'd treated her. She couldn't forget the fact that he called her a slut and easy, but it wouldn't bother her. She wouldn't _let_ it bother her.

When she got home, she would take out her 16x20 canvas. She would paint her feeling. A brand new, effervescent feeling. Something that she never Felt before. She was gonna wash it with bright colors, warm colors.

She was excited she was gonna use her best paints, and she was gonna be the most liberal she'd ever been with any of her paints. She was gonna squeeze out dollops and use them perfectly.

She could see the vision in her head and she was entranced and excited. She was confident that it would be magnificent. Her magnum opus.

And she would only share the painting with herself. Because she'd only experienced such a feeling once in her life and she was gonna savor it, and not spoil it with other people.

As she got on the platform, to take her back to the city, she did jumping jacks and ate a leftover Honey Bun she left over in her purse. To get rid of her leftover high, so she could be clear and sober and paint the most beautiful thing she'd ever painted in her life.

The feeling was all her own, so the painting was gonna be all her own and she was excited. She couldn't think about Josh, about Riley, about anybody. All she could focus on was her feeling Andy he new artwork.

But as she entered her apartment, eager to lock herself in her room and paint the living daylights out of herself, she saw a stoic living room, with Shawn, her mother, Corey and Topanga and Riley, and Farkle and everybody. And Josh.

"Maya, this is an intervention."

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	6. Trapped

**Property of Disney.**

Josh could never have another sip of raspberry schnapps for as long as he would live.

It used to be his favorite drink. It was sweet, it was light and it got anybody hammered quick. And lucky for him Corey did so too, and Corey never locked his liquor cabinet.

So when him and Topanga told him that they were going Upstate so that they could "catch up", Josh had jumped up and volunteered to be babysitter. Of course, Corey and Topanga were a little apprehensive at leaving their four and twelve year olds with a fifteen year old, but after enough wheedling and cajoling, they relented.

And the first order of business was getting blasted. Drink after drink after drink until it became the wee hours of the morning, and he was being loud and rowdy. And Maya came down. Maya! If he was sober, he would've rushed her upstairs and locked her inside, until he cleaned everything up and then set to apologizing afterwards. If he had a granule of sense, he would've in the very least not have invited her to drink.

But he didn't, and he egged her on in taking two or three tumblers even though she was twelve.

And the worst part? He'd complimented her and told her how pretty and wonderful she was, even though he already knew how much she'd liked him. He was just having some fun at her expense. His inner monologue was laughing at her and pumping his ego in her excitement and glee that would pan out to nothing.

That the morning after Maya would ask him about what he'd said and he'd deny and claim that he blacked out and couldn't remember because he was "drunk".

The biggest excuse in the world is "Oh, I was drunk." Drunk people always have a little voice in the back of their heads telling them off. Giving them the right answer. Josh just refused to listen.

When she started throwing up, and Josh was pulling her hair back, watching a twelve year old girl emptying the contents of her stomach into a toilet bowl, that's the excuse he gave even though he was drunk. When he was having a hangover the next morning and refused to look at Maya, it was simply shame on his part. Shame he wrote off and refused to acknowledge because he was "drunk".

And also shame because he found it okay to call her "gorgeous" and "only if you were older", even though he already had a girl back home. But she needn't know.

Because it didn't really happen right? Nothing happened, because he was "drunk" and drunk people cannot be held responsible for their actions. Josh would never take responsibility if he had an out. Nobody would.

Josh held that notion in his mind every single day, every single hour, every single minute of his lifetime until he would take a raspberry schnapps and realize that he got a girl seriously drunk and fucked her up for the rest of her life just because he wanted something to laugh at.

* * *

And such was the same excuse he used after he'd just ratted her out to her parents and Corey and Topanga. And when he saw her jubilant face drop when Topanga said "Maya, this is an intervention."

Because he was doing this for her, and he couldn't be held responsible for things that he _had_ to do and he had _no control over._

Then why was he feeling awful? Why was he instantly regretting telling Shawn and Corey that Maya was attending an all night free and high on weed? That she was having sex with a stranger in a pantry, even though he himself would condone everything simply as growing as a person?"

When they'd called their wives and invited him in to brainstorm what to do. Grounding, obviously, but then calling the parents of who'd thrown the free, then alerting the police for underage drinking and illegal drug use. That was all too far, and when Josh had brought that up, they'd silenced him for being "too young."

Didn't they understand the social repercussions? Maya would become a leper, and her life would go to shit. Nobody listened.

"Bro, don't you know what this'll do to her at school? At everywhere? Haven't you ever done this? Isn't this just growing up?"

Corey raised his eyebrow. " _I_ never done this. _Topanga_ 's never done this. Have _you_ ever done this? Is that why you're making allowances for this type of thing?" Josh was quiet for a while and after a while Corey went back to talking.

They didn't understand. They spoke about taking away her art, moving her away to a troubled girl's school on the Upper East Side, away from everybody she knew downtown. Those would destroy her. He kept silent and the entire while he was trying to deny responsibility for all he'd done to her, saying that he had no power over it. But the guilt kept eating away at him.

He just wanted her to love him again! That was it! He didn't think that his brother and everybody would take it so seriously. He thought that they would probably ground her and just send her to therapy and maybe fix her. Not destroy her life. Didn't anybody get that?!

Who needed such drastic measures just because she smoked a little oil and hooked up with a guy? What was wrong with him? He complained about not wanting her and her being so young for him. He didn't want her right now, but maybe later. And maybe later was only possible if she still loved him. And she was veering so far off that plan that he'd set for her. She was spreading her wings and escaping the confines he'd place on her. She was becoming her own person. And that person was bad, right? That's why he snitched on her. Because the old her was so much healthier and loving and he missed her.

He didn't wanted a Maya that didn't love him wholeheartedly. He would make excuses for himself but he wouldn't allow Maya to slip up and leave him alone. He wanted that. Not a completely and utterly destroyed Maya that was done at his hand. Twice.

First time was the product of years of empty promises, and that resulted in the Maya she was today. The second time was when he snitched on her in hopes of reverting her into the Maya that loved him without question. That's would fail. She would become a shell of a human being. She would barely exist once everything was implemented. Because of him. Because he was selfish and was scared of not having a safety net in her.

And the only loser in this entire situation would be her. She would be ridiculed, hated by all of her friends who were at that party, despised by those at her high school for being a rat, then being forced to move to a new school that are fill by students with _actual problems_ \- police records, jail time, juvie. And then she would come home to being grounded for God knows how long, and the only solace she'd ever known, art, would be stolen from her. And what would she gain from this? Hatred for her parents for putting her through such a thing? Anger at the world for destroying the one thing that made her happy, done by the people who were supposed to protect her?

And then what would she feel about him? She would hate him, more than she did so currently. Just because he wanted old her back. And he didn't want her to hate him. Ever. He wanted her to love and admire him. To have her hop on his back and snatch letters out of his hand. He wanted to be able to make fun of her and still look at him with all the love in the world even though he was a garbage person. No.

People grow up. Josh just didn't understand that.

And as he stood in that living room, with the parents with angry eyes and a shocked and listless Maya, all he could do was repeat his mantra.

" _I had no control over this, therefore this is not my fault. I had no control over this, therefore this is not my fault. I had no control over this, therefore this is not my fault..."_

xXXXXXx

"Maya, this is an intervention."

The words and the sight of everybody in the room turned her mind black and white. She couldn't bring herself to envision her painting. Shit. It was gone. Just like that. Her magnum opus and she had to open her eyes to the real world.

A world she thought she escaped. A world of two sets of parents, of tight confines and with Josh.

But instead, such and such was a more twisted world.

Josh didn't look as cute to her as he did when she was fourteen. His face bothered her. The slight muss in his hair, previously cute, looked as if it needed a comb. The aquiline nose itself needed a good punch.

Corey and Topanga didn't have their arms out to her in a hug, instead holding a stern look in their faces and their arms crossed.

Her mom and Shawn looked down at the ground, fists clenched as they relegated the duty of parenting to their more put together friends. They were blaming themselves and not about to challenge anything put forth by Corey and Topanga. They failed.

When her voice finally croaked out, her throat was dry and she was raspy. "Yes?"

Topanga plastered on the fakest smile she'd ever seen, and sat both them and everybody else down.

She didn't listen through the entire three hour long "heart to heart therapy session", simply nodding her head and looking down at her hands. Hands that were supposed to be changing her life currently, that weren't. They were supposed to be painting a painting that she couldn't even describe anymore. A painting that had simply become a distant memory.

Josh. She also thought about Josh. That ratbastard. He didn't like what she was doing with her life, so he decided to turn it on it's head by ratting on her. Telling his brother and ruining her life. He didn't know what she was like outside of her being by herself. He didn't know how much more of a person she felt like away from Riley.

Well she didn't know what to do anymore. She was truly at a loss, and that was all his fault. It was okay. She breathed in and out. She was going to cry. She knew nothing else. If she couldn't paint a painting by herself, and for herself, what could she do? She could remember the beauty and the feeling and everything. And it was _hers._ Gone. Gone was the feeling of success, gone was the feeling of achievement, and gone was that feeling that she had never had before.

She wanted to punch something. Her ears perked up finally when Topanga stopped being her guidance consuelor and started becoming the judge of her moral character and her future.

"And Maya, that's why we-" she said looking at her parents, Josh and Corey "- need the address of that home you'd attended tonight."

Water. Have you ever dove into water and have your ears filled? Well Maya had. And that's all she heard and felt when Mrs. Matthews said that. She couldn't really be thinking about having that party stopped. And have her name attached to it's ending? No. No. "No."

"Maya, I know and you know that Josh also knows that address. It's much easier if I end it right now over the phone, and contact the owners of that house immediately. I'm just giving you the chance to be done with everything and make it your conscious decision."

She was going to cry. She was gonna become a social outcast, and nobody was ever gonna speak to her again. And she couldn't even escape with her older friends, since they'd were at the party and they were gonna fry as well. Topanga was really gonna go _there,_ and Josh took her to the first three beforehand.

This was a trap, right? If she said one thing she'd be screwed at home, and if she said another thing she'd be screwed on the outside, with everybody else. But Josh already knew the address. So it was an impossible decision. She was fucked either way. So she went another way. "What the hell Mrs. Matthews, are you trying to do? If your gonna punish anybody, punish me. It was a goddamn college party, get over it! So a couple of people were underage, big whup! Did you not go to high school? Have you any idea how anything works?"

Shawn stepped up to plate. "Hey, Maya, you do not speak to any adult that way!" Maya sat back down and watched the angry adults fuming above her, and Josh on the couch, looking at his phone.

Topanga's mouth formed into a thin compressed line, and she spoke in slow, measured words. "I'll take it as a my prerogative that was a no. Fine."

She cocked her head to her kitchen, where everybody followed Topanga to discuss Maya's final punishment. She chose poorly. She doubled over in the armchair and started crying. She didn't know how bad it's was gonna be, but she knew that day comes tomorrow, she'd be broken into a new person and she was gonna be like a little pillbug.

Rolled up and suffocating, wanting to not be swallowed up by outside world, but too small to make a difference.

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	7. Unfulfilled

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Christmas was always a wonderful time, big holidays in general. Maya felt normal and she felt adjusted to the role she was always playing, chumming with Riley, singing and dancing. It wasn't who she was, but for a couple of hours in an always unbearable situation, Maya was finally fully assimilated and everybody was so caught up in the Yuletide cheer that they forgot about her and how she didn't belong. And she would forget about how she didn't belong.

She could stuff her face with turkey and mashed potatoes, and stare longingly at Josh and nobody would care. All they thought about were the presents and the evening. She could stay in her self imposed bubble and live in there as the person she wanted to be.

So when her mother hit a rough patch with Shawn and decided to take her down South to visit her Nana, she was visibly upset. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to go to the Matthews and stuff face and enjoy their home without being looked at like an outsider. A mooch.

A pathetic poor girl that latched herself onto Riley, sucking on Riley's kindness and generosity like a fucking parasite. The Matthews didn't say it, but they for sure thought that way. It didn't matter though. Who could she relate to?

Her own mother, the woman who was supposed to understand her the most, was too busy bitching about how Shawn didn't support her dreams of stardom, who in all honesty was just being practical.

Seriously, what forty year old single mother could expect to be a movie star, getting nowhere, even though she had worked her ass off waiting tables for twenty plus years for headshots, sacrificing her own daughter's recitals several times just to make ends meet and give herself time to rehearse for her auditions. She was delusional.

And Maya always had been the one to lose out.

She thought that Shawn had finally realized that too. She was happy for the guy. He was smart enough to cut loose and run once he realized that Katy was alway she gonna put her nonexistent career ahead of anybody in her life.

But in the middle of the night, in the middle of some random town in Virginia, sleeping on a rollaway bed in a Hampton's Inn, on the way to see her Nana, Maya was awoken by her mother, who was vigorously shaking her awake.

Apparently, she and Shawn settled their difference. And they were gonna go to the Matthews for Christmas after all.

Maya felt sick to her stomach. She should've felt joy. She was looking forward to Christmas for weeks until her mother decided to drag her along just to spite Shawn. And she was finally actually was gonna go.

She felt guilt. Not because of anything she did. She felt guilt because her mother was gonna take advantage of a totally innocent guy like Shawn. She was landing him, hook, line and sinker.

Shawn was gonna be forced to use his job to support a wannabe actress and her hanger on daughter, who had way too many issues than Shawn deserved.

He shoved himself out of the bottomless pit he was born into, and he did not deserved to be plunged into another one.

And so, Maya didn't wanna go back to New York. She didn't want to see her mother with Shawn, and him falling in love with her.

Shawn was everything Maya wanted to be. He rescued himself from circumstance, had he became somebody. Somebody on level and on par with the Matthews. Shawn was respectable.

And she could be too. But if at the end of the day, a respectable individual was gonna fall in love with a woman that Maya knew herself to be barely able take care of herself, let alone others, Maya could not be comfortable being that respectable individual.

Then, she had an epiphany. If everything she was striving towards, being clean cut and like Riley was going to end with her marrying a hopeless loser like her mother, who had a kid of their own and she would have nothing, she may as well enjoy her life and stop pretending to be a decent person.

She would do everything and experience everything, if everything was gonna end with her making a decision that would cause her true misery. There was no bubble wrap that Maya could give herself, being Riley or Josh or whatever.

She quit her make believe reality and let herself escape from her bubble.

* * *

The apartment was silent. Josh was in the kitchen with the rest of the adults, while Maya was sitting ramrod straight alone in the living room.

Topanga broke the silence. "Josh, we're gonna need the address."

He ignored her. "What are you going to do to Maya?"

Her voice was curt and dismissive. "That isn't of your concern."

"Well look, I don't want to ruin her life or my life. The people in that house are my friends as well."

Corey jumped in. "Hey, Josh. This isn't about you. This is about Maya, and how irresponsible she is, and how the people in that house condone such behavior."

"I don't care. It's wrong, I get it. But I won't let you destroy the lives of me or Maya, or the lives of the people in that house."

Topanga and Corey looked ready to kill him, until Shawn decided to chime in. "Hey, I agree with Josh. Reporting a party is a bad move, and I think that you both need to put yourselves in her shoes."

They didn't even listen. They bristled towards the front door, and looked back at Shawn, Josh and Maya. "Maya, I don't think we'll be comfortable with you being with Riley if you're more concerned about protecting a bunch of drugged up college students. And Josh, we expected more from you."

* * *

Maya went to bed that night unpunished, except for being barred from Riley's, but she couldn't care less. She felt like being handed a reprieve with the hangman's noose around her neck.

And the only person she could thank was Josh. He saved her ass.

But he also was the one that shoved her feet to the fire.

She didn't _want_ to feel grateful to Josh. For sacrificing some of his family for her own sake. She could say that he was just trying to save himself, and she was pretty sure that he was, but he did rescue her. From the ire of his brother and sister in law.

And on another level, Maya mourned the loss of her _magnum opus_ , a painting that would never be. And joy she had never felt. She was happy when she came home to paint. And it was an honest and genuine happy. Her entire life she strived towards it, worked towards it. It was what Riley, Lucas and Farkle felt on a daily. Their lives were untainted and they could forever feel happy. She couldn't.

So that was why she couldn't forgive Josh. Because he knew that she was having a much more shitty night than she had anticipated, by showing up at every corner of her life tonight. And he still decided to narc on her.


End file.
